


Morning Muffin

by Megasaur



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Baker!Reader - Freeform, Baking, F/M, carter baizen - Freeform, sweet carter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megasaur/pseuds/Megasaur
Summary: Prompt: “Why are you baking muffins at 3 am?”A/N: This is for @baezen’s writing challenge. I saw the prompt and had to do it, obviously. ((after months of searching for it on my blog to add to my masterlist after my URL change in February… I have decided to repost it. So enjoy again, or for the first time.))
Relationships: Carter Baizen/Reader
Kudos: 6





	Morning Muffin

You were restless, couldn’t sleep a wink. Laying there in bed with Carter’s arm wrapped around your midsection, your mind did what it always did in this situation – think up new recipe ideas. One hit you and you had to get up to make them. Gently you pried his fingers from you, careful not to wake him from his slumber, as you rolled off the bed placing your pillow under his arm. He pulled it close while mumbling something as you grabbed your glasses off the nightstand and put them on. Smiling, you shook your head tiptoeing out of the room – leaving the door slightly ajar – moving down the hall towards the kitchen. 

Pulling out supplies as quietly as you could you set them all out on the large marble island you now had for all your prep work when inspiration hit and you weren’t at your shop. You started mixing together the ingredients, mind wandering on how your life got here in the first place as you continued through the steps of making your new inspired recipe. 

Carter and you had met in Paris when he walked into your little patisserie that was nestled between two shops, your apartment placed above it. It was the only way you could manage to make your dream come true of being among some of the best patisseries in the world. After graduating from culinary school you packed up all of the belongings you couldn’t live without into two large suitcases and hopped a plane prepared to work from the ground up. 

No one had wanted to hire an American – and it was painfully obvious you were by your accent when you spoke French in your meetings with potential employers. You had landed a job at one of the more famous places after struggling for a few months, renting a room from a lovely older woman who was great at conversation, full of wisdom, and helped you with lessons in losing your accent. You continued to live with her as you worked your way up to being just below the executive pastry chef. 

Unfortunately your first friend in the city fell ill in her old age just three years after the two of you met. She left you her building — you took what used to be her pride and joy, a flower shop on the bottom floor and turned it into your patisserie. With the top two floors you preserved the old french charm that she had made into her home and moved back into the first place you called home here. 

————————

Carter walked in during a lull in customers the first time looking for the “best dessert money could buy” probably for one of the many girls he had brought to Paris to woo. You internally rolled your eyes at him but on the outside you smiled and pointed out a particular favorite of your customers in the pastry case. Offering him a test taste, as you would any other customer. The way he hummed after taking the bite then went on about the complex yet familiar flavor palette of the pastry had you melting. He took that pastry, and a few others, on your recommendation as you continued to talk him through some of your favorites and offer him samples to see his reaction again and again. Walking out with two to go boxes after a few more customers walked in; he left you a hearty tip and his number. 

——————-

You did nothing with his number until he came back a few months later. He walked in and you noticed him right away but you were in the middle of helping an older woman pick something for husband. You watched him get his order from one of your cashiers, handing her a note, and leave without a word to you. 

After you finished, and the crowd died down you went back into the kitchen to create some new pastries. The cashier brought the note to you and set it next to the dough you were rolling out. You paused what you were doing immediately to read it. Why? Who knows, but the urgency you felt didn’t stop when you get to the end of the letter where he asked you out on a date and left his number again with a sly joke about never calling him last time. 

Forgetting about what you were doing you pulled your phone out and dialed his number. One ring. Two rings. “Helllo? This is Carter.” He was met with silence. His next “Hello” pulled you out of your stupor. You greeted him and gave him your name and his voice grew softer at that when he replied. 

The two of you went on the date as he promised where he took you to a restaurant you had wanted to get into but couldn’t. The two of you walked along the Seine hand in hand before he dropped you back off at your door with a kiss. Nothing more. He was leaving in the morning, but would be back in a month. He made you promise to leave a full day open for him. You groaned at the thought of having to leave your shop for a full day but agreed, before kissing him again and walking inside with one last glance over your shoulder as he watched. 

His monthly visits turned into daily face timing, then turned into longer visits, and eventually the two of you were basically living together in your apartment – not wanting to be without the other for too long. 

———————–

You were broke out of your revery as you hand mixed the glaze for your muffins when a pair of lips were placed on the curve of your bared shoulder that your sweater had fallen off of.. 

“Beautiful.” A kiss was placed closer to under your ear. “Why are you making muffins at three in the morning?” he questioned his voice full of sleep still. 

“Hello handsome.” You purred as you lean the back of your head against his chest pulling the bright blue spatula up out of the bowl to check the consistency — not quite runny enough. “I couldn’t sleep and inspiration struck.” 

He kissed the side of your head and took the bowl from you setting it on the counter before you could add your ingredient to make it more runny. “Come back to bed. This can wait. I can not.” 

“Carter!” It was a whisper yell – residual from you trying to keep quiet – as he took the bowl from you. 

Pouting you turn around to face him; turning it up a little more when you felt his chest rise and fall under your palms in laughter. 

“Baby. I mean it.” his face grows closer to yours.

“You know how I am once I get a wild hair, Car.” you close the space more not changing from your pout.

“I know and that’s why I married you.” he placed a soft kiss on your pushed out bottom lip. “Now come on.” His hand grasped the curve of your butt and lifted you up as his hands slid to your thighs, steadying you. He was right, the muffins could wait.


End file.
